


Colour me Beautiful

by chibi_zoe



Category: Bleach
Genre: Appearance of non-con, Blood Kink, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2455700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_zoe/pseuds/chibi_zoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grimmjow gets so sick of the colour white</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colour me Beautiful

Title: Colour me Beautiful  
Author: chibi-zoe  
Series: Bleach  
Pairing: GimmUlqui + hinted AizenUlqui  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: blood-play, violence, appearance of non-con  
Summary: Grimmjow gets so sick of the colour white  
AN: I'm not American, so I'm not using American spelling

Wearing his white uniform, sitting on white furniture, in his white room, Grimmjow could feel his frustration spiralling out of control. Before Aizen had come with his ‘pure’ reign, Hueco Mundo had been dreary and colourless, and at first, Aizen’s brilliant white had been captivating. Now, fully ensnared in the ex-shinagami’s palace and plans, Grimmjow found that he was pining for something less pristine than what Aizen’s honeyed words promised. There wasn’t even a mirror in his quarters so that he could see the vibrant turquoise hair that adorned his head. His only break in the endless absence of colour was when he gathered with other, similarly enhanced, arrancar.

Stalking through the corridors, trying to either work off his irritation or find someone to fight with, Grimmjow’s eye was caught by a spatter of glistening carmine. Moving closer, he eyed the spot of fresh blood with interest. Looking around, he caught sight of another splash further down the corridor and moved towards it. This one was larger, several drops layered over each other. Swiping a finger through the sticky substance, he raised it to his nose, inhaling its copper fragrance. He ran his rough, pink, tongue over his moist, peach, lips before darting it out to steal a taste of the deep crimson blood. Humming in pleasure at the tiny taste, he used his foot to smear the dots of blood over the immaculate floor and began a slow, predatory, stalk down the corridor. 

The carnelian splatters of blood were getting fresher and closer together the further down the hallway that Grimmjow ventured. He perked his ears listening for the slightest sound, unconsciously lowering his body to make himself less visible. A small part of him was wondering if Gin was playing with him, again, but the scent and taste of the fresh blood was quickening his heartbeat. He hoped that the one who was leaking so copiously would be a worthy meal, or better yet, one of the more highly ranked Espada that he could overcome and consume, thereby increasing his own power and standing. Carefully scenting the air, he moved cautiously towards the corner at the end of the hall.

Peeking around the corner, his eager cyan eyes lit upon a blood-stained figure attempting to stagger gracefully towards his quarters. The familiar figure was stark naked, and his slender back had been laid open by countless lashes. The beautiful blood splatters that Grimmjow had been carefully tracking were dripping from a limp hand with nails painted with a green so dark as to be nearly black. He could feel the Fourth’s weakness like a seductive caress across his body, and slowly made his own presence known. Ahead of him he could see Ulquiorra’s spine straighten haughtily as the other finally noticed him. Apparently uncaring about his lack of dress, the slender Espada tuned languidly to face him, his Emerald eyes and facial markings standing out starkly against his ivory skin.

Looking over his superior, Grimmjow was surprised to see what looked like precise cuts etched into the flesh of his chest; they marked out a complex and vibrant pattern. There was only one person who would be so arrogant as to deliberately disfigure one of his highest ranked followers – Aizen. Feeling a strange melange of compassion, anger and disgust, Grimmjow growled deep in his throat and brazenly strutted up to the still-bleeding Forth. Looking the higher-ranked man directly in his jaded eyes, Grimmjow reached out and captured the dripping hand, raising it up to his fanged mouth, where his hot pink tongue could easily capture every heavy drop. Before him, Ulquiorra gasped, but made no move to reclaim his hand.

He could almost taste the power in Ulquiorra’s blood and wondered how Aizen could so wilfully waste it. Licking his reddened lips with relish, Grimmjow moved his grip so that he held tightly to Ulquiorra’s prominent wrist bones. Tugging demandingly, he started to semi-drag his superior towards the Forth’s quarters. The delectable taste had excited him and he wanted more, much more, but he didn’t want to do it in the hall where they could be easily interrupted. Unusually, Ulquiorra meekly allowed himself to be dragged along. Turning slightly to look at the source of his excitement, he was astounded to see that the normally haughty Quattro’s pupils were massively dilated.

A thousand thoughts rushed through Grimmjow’s mind as he stared at Ulquiorra, his emotions layering upon each other and confusing him into silence. Then, with an irritated grunt, he resolutely pushed aside everything except his anger and his lust, turned his back and continued to tow the yielding Forth to his quarters. Viciously kicking open the door, he threw the naked Espada in, watching interestedly as Ulquiorra failed to catch himself and sprawled, spraddle-legged, on the floor. Fresh crimson blood welled up in his wounds and started to make its way down the Fourth’s alabaster skin to puddle obscenely on the ivory floor tiles. Feeling an almost irresistible urge to lap up the spilt fluid, Grimmjow wrenched his gaze away.

The Fourth’s quarters were nothing like what Grimmjow had imagined. Like his own, they were finished in Aizen’s endless white obsession, but where he had done nothing to alleviate the aching emptiness, Ulquiorra had added understated, yet somehow still bright green, accessories. Tiny embroidered teardrops marched in a band across the pillows and the blankets. Teal thread had been used to stitch the cushions together and it peeked out enticingly through the tight weave. The more Grimmjow looked around, the more little hints he found that even Aizen’s Pet couldn’t stand the endless blankness. Glancing back at the still slumped Espada, Grimmjow was once again captivated by the bright carmine dribbling over bone-white skin.

Giving into temptation, he dropped to his knees beside his companion, leaned over, and licked his treat directly from the source, every lap sending coppery power flowing through his veins. Shuddering gasps met his actions, gasps that had an all too familiar timbre, and he sent a curious hand between the Forth’s still spread legs. As expected, his hand met a throbbing hardness. Smiling cruelly, he swiped his other hand roughly along Ulquiorra’s back, his claws catching on the edges of the torn flesh. A ragged scream tore its way out of the Forth’s throat, but Grimmjow was gratified to see that the pain had caused Ulquiorra to orgasm. A spattering of thick cream now mingled with the bright blood on the formally pristine white of the floor.

Swiping his finger through the combined mess, Grimmjow darted his pink tongue out to eagerly lick a long stripe clean. Shuffling forwards on his knees, he lined himself up with the Forth’s exposed, reddened, entrance. It was clear that Aizen had already been plundering this intimate treasure, but Grimmjow couldn’t find it in himself to care. Fumbling open his pants, he thrust forwards forcefully, tearing another ragged scream from Ulquiorra’s throat. It was tight, but not as tight as it could’ve been, and it was slick with a combination of blood and Aizen’s leavings. Grimmjow pounded even harder, digging his claws into his partners hips deep enough to draw a fresh welling of crimson.

Snarling and moaning, Grimmjow increased his pace, loving the wet smacking sounds that echoed around the sparsely furnished room. A wriggle beneath him caused him to glance down at his partner, and he was astonished to see that Ulquiorra had arched his back to a nearly impossible angle, causing Grimmjow’s length to slide much deeper with every thrust, and that bony fingers, tipped in darkest green, were scrabbling at the blood and semen stained floor tiles in apparent lust. Filling the air around him with colourful curses, Grimmjow redoubled his thrusts, determined to reduce his partner to mindless groans of mixed pain and pleasure. Digging his claws in even further, he was astonished to feel the passage constricting him convulse.

It was clear now that Ulquiorra got off on pain, the deeper the better. Grimmjow let a particularly vile curse drip from his blood-stained lips as he thrust for the final time, burying himself as deeply as possible and shooting his load into his superiors’ shuddering body. Withdrawing quickly, he shoved the Forth away from him, watching interestedly as the pale man rolled onto his back and ejaculated, the thin dribble of seminal fluid dripping down his engorged length. Growling, Grimmjow met Ulquiorra’s lust-clouded eyes and shivered at the satisfied expression on the normally impassive face. He wondered suddenly, just who had really held the balance of power in their violent encounter.

Pushing himself to his feet, Grimmjow turned his back on his panting partner and moved towards the bathroom. He could smell Ulquiorra’s scent on his skin, overpowering his own. He had to get rid of it immediately. Stepping into the spacious shower cubicle, Grimmjow turned the shining silver taps and stepped carefully beneath the warm cascade. Looking around, Grimmjow was once again surprised by the tiny splashes of colour breaking up the endless purity. Shiny chrome, enamel blue and a vibrantly violet cake of soap, which Grimmjow immediately picked up, sniffed curiously, and then proceeded to lather up with. Wonderfully warm water was slicking his electric blue hair to his head and glistening on his fragmented hollow mask.

There were shuffling sounds coming from the main room, getting closer and closer. The sound of the door opening caused a snarl to blossom on Grimmjow’s face. He watched, lather forgotten, as Ulquiorra carefully closed the door behind himself, walked over to the facility and lined himself up. Grimmjow let loose an imaginative string of vitriol, heavily laced with curses, but it didn’t deter the Forth, who appeared to be completely ignoring him. A golden yellow stream arched into the bowl, landing with a torrential-sounding splash. Ulquiorra’s head was thrown back, his dead black hair dusting his shoulders, and an expression of intense relief barely visible around his half-helmet hollow mask.

Realising that he was watching his superior relieve himself, Grimmjow angrily turned his back and continued scrubbing himself, determined to scour Ulquiorra’s overwhelming scent from his pores. A cool draft behind him clued him in at the last possible moment, that the Forth hadn’t merely emptied his bladder and exited. The feeling of the other climbing into the tiled space behind him had Grimmjow’s hackles rising; he could literally feel the sensitive cyan hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Whipping around to try and cow the weakened Forth, he was astonished to feel his organ twitch when he laid eyes on an Ulquiorra, who was naked, dripping wet, and still looking totally debauched. 

The sight of those normally dead green eyes almost sparkling with some unknown emotion was enough to put Grimmjow on his guard. He peppered the steamy air around them with curses and goads, but the other Espada did not respond, he merely reached out with his darkly manicured fingers and traced the sensitive edges of Grimmjow’s hollow-hole. A gasp escaped his throat and he jerked back out of reach, only to bash his head against the tiled wall. What almost looked like a smirk briefly crossed Ulquiorra’s face, before the other man silently advanced on him and repeated the motion. A ragged moan tore itself from Grimmjow’s throat, and he could feel a familiar heaviness building between his thighs.

The heated torrent of water gushed over his superior’s shoulders, washing the burgundy smears of dried blood from the alabaster skin and staining the water swirling around their feet a pale cerise. He could see the other man’s emerald eyes also inspecting the coloured water and wordlessly held out the slippery, indigo, bar of soap. Turning away and trying to concentrate on rinsing his own muscular form, Grimmjow could hear the sound of Ulquiorra soaping up. His half-hard organ started swelling further as erotic images took over Grimmjow’s imagination. Turning back, his aqua eyes drank in the sight of Ulquiorra covered in lavender tinted suds. The other man looked absolutely delectable.

Grimmjow was still staring as Ulquiorra doused himself, the suds sliding seductively down the slender, white, form and collecting at the drain between their feet. Now that they were clean, Grimmjow could see that the lashes and cuts decorating the Forth’s body where actually superficial, the intention had clearly been to create pain and blood-flow, not to incapacitate. Behind the current wounds, he could see the faintest traces of older scars, hair-thin and nearly invisible against Ulquiorra’s colourless countenance. Reaching out with a curious finger, he traced around the Forth’s hollow hole, surprised to see black lips part sensuously and a shockingly pink tongue dart out to wet them.

Risking his pride, Grimmjow leant in to claim those tinted lips with his own, pulling the slighter man tightly against his own muscular body. Ulquiorra submitted for the space of four heartbeats, and then Grimmjow felt the man push him away. Unable to prevent the stronger man from doing as he wished, Grimmjow allowed himself to be pushed down until he was sitting beneath the shower head, warm water cascading over him. Scowling at the sight of the other man standing over him, Grimmjow gathered himself to leap to his feet and start a violent fight, when suddenly, Ulquiorra dropped down to settle in his lap, writhing and wriggling around until he was situated directly over Grimmjow’s aching length.

Thrusting up, he was met with Ulquiorra’s downward grind, and the sensation tore a moan from his throat. A subtle motion from the other man had his erection pushing firmly against a yielding ring of muscles, and he bucked his hips up firmly. Sinking deeply into his superior for the second time, Grimmjow groaned out his satisfaction and reached out with his hands to steady the other man. When Ulquiorra stated to raise and lower himself, Grimmjow threw his head back in ecstasy; he’d had no idea that allowing his partner to do all the work could feel so wonderful. Looking up into the Forth’s face, he could tell that Ulquiorra was enjoying himself as well, not that it really mattered to Grimmjow’s own satisfaction.

It didn’t take long for either of them to peak, and dual groans echoed over the sound of water hitting flesh. Ulquiorra stayed seated in Grimmjow’s lap for a surprising amount of time, before rising to his feet and beginning to clean himself out. Grimmjow sat and watched for a long moment, before rising shakily to his own feet. He was confused. Twice he had penetrated Ulquiorra, and both times, he couldn't be sure that he was actually the one in charge. How the Forth managed to manipulate him every time he had no idea, and despite the critical blow to his pride, he knew he had enjoyed every moment of their couplings. Glancing over at the other man, who was already climbing out to dry himself, he wondered if Ulquiorra was up for a final round before bed.

The End


End file.
